


an extension of one's self

by mothwrites



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Mentions of Character Death, One Shot, Queerplatonic Relationships, Spoilers for 1.03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 08:25:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothwrites/pseuds/mothwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"People joked about them being one person in two bodies, and although it sounded far-fetched, that was often how they felt about themselves. They were too quintessentially important to each other to be separate for any decent length of time." Fitzsimmons can't decide whether they should remain on the team after the events of "The Asset."</p>
            </blockquote>





	an extension of one's self

It was close to midnight in the team's current timezone, and Jemma was tempted to ignore the incessant buzzing coming from her phone, assuming it was a relative or simply just some late emails coming through. And then it rang. Fitz's ringtone. Strange. They barely ever used their phones to contact each other: there was no point when they were hardly ever more than a few feet apart.   
"Fitz?" She queried, picking up the phone almost instantly. He hummed in response, sounding distracted, and in the background she could hear the faint but familiar sounds of late-night tinkering.

"I'm in the lab," he explained unnecessarily. "Come meet me?"

"Right now?" She glanced at the clock on her bedside table. "It's been a long day, don't you think we should-"

He cut her off. Not harshly, but insistently; " _Please._  Jem."

The tone, and the use of her first name took her by surprise, and cut straight to her heart. "Of _course_. Of course. Give me two minutes. I need shoes." It took her less than a minute to pull some trainers on and grab a nearby cardigan. She didn't need to check her hair or face before rushing out the door; with Fitz, those things didn't matter. She didn't need to impress him, and never felt like she would be judged by him on anything. They were too close for that. You can't judge an extension of your own self.

When she arrived at the lab, he was whirling about, like he did in moments of intense scientific epiphanies, but there was no euphoric mood to his movements. With a jolt, she realized that the tinkering sounds she'd heard on the phone were not of instruments being used, but rather being disassembled and packed away. For a moment, she was speechless, until he looked up and caught her eye."Are we going somewhere?"

"Don't you think we should?" He answered, still packing. Always we, never I. People joked about them being one person in two bodies, and although it sounded far-fetched, that was often how they felt about themselves. They were too quintessentially important to each other be separate for any decent length of time.

"And where exactly are we going? We can't just leave, what on Earth's gotten into you?"

"Come on, Simmons. Be reasonable. They _killed_ Dr Hall."

The memory of pleading into Coulson's ear piece hit her, still too fresh.  A lump rose in her throat, and it took a long few seconds of blinking and swallowing before she could talk again.

"I know," she said. "I know they did. But there wasn't another way. It was him or all those people, Fitz."

"He was a good man. He didn't deserve to die. Not like that."

"There wasn't another way," she repeated, letting a little force creep into her words. "Come on, you're being _ridiculous_. Please. I don't want to leave. And if we do, we'll never get another job like this."

"Maybe that's a good thing!" He'd stopped packing, she noticed, with some relief, but his words stung a little.

"You don't mean that."

"We don't belong here," he continued. "We don't belong here in the field, we're better in a lab."

"We _have_ a lab," she reminded him, gesturing about to their surroundings; admittedly, in a shambles, but still important. "A beautiful lab."

"We can find another one. It won't be hard to find good work, not for us. Please?"

Jemma went to speak, and then closed her mouth again. The words she wanted to say stuck in her throat, and she had to sit down opposite him, watching as he looked more anxious by the second. "Simmons," he prompted, a frown creasing his brow. "What is it?"

She let out a long breath that she hadn't been aware of holding. "I'm staying," Jemma said finally. "Even if- even if you go."

Fitz looked as if she'd hit him, and she felt like she had. Separation had never been a topic they'd discussed before. They lived together, they worked together, they had the same name. Fitzsimmons. Coulson had come to both of them for this team, knowing they worked better together than they ever could on their own.

"You can't be serious."

"I am," she admitted, hating herself more than a little. "We've got the chance to do some really good work here, Fitz. I want to carry on."

He stood up abruptly. "Dr Hall-"

"Would want us to make the most of the opportunity we've been given! Look at this laboratory!"

"There will be other jobs! I don't want to be here."

"You don't want to be here _right now_ ," she corrected him, knowing she was right as she knew herself. "You're just angry, and, and, and therefore not thinking straight. Things will look better in the morning, Fitz, I _promise_." Fitz said nothing. The look of betrayal was clear on his face. "Look, I'm sorry. But, theoretically, we are capable of doing separate things."

"I'm not exactly dying to test that theory out."

"Me neither. So stay. Please? And if you still really hate it after a few days... we'll go."

"I don't _hate_ it," he admitted reluctantly, after a long pause. "I hate that Dr Hall had to die. And I hate arguing with you. But I don't hate it here, not. Not entirely."

"I understand. You wouldn't-" She cut herself off, and then started again, though she knew the answer. "You wouldn't really go without me, would you?"

"Course not. Don't be an idiot, Simmons." Before she could reply, she was enveloped in a hug which made the whole world seem a little more stable.

"You were the one talking nonsense," she mumbled into his shoulder. I didn't mean it either. You're quite possibly stuck with me for life."

"I can live with that." He broke away, and then span on his heel to survey the room. Looking as if he was seeing the mess for the first time, (which she knew was entirely possible,) he let out a deep groan. "Christ. Quick, help me get this all back together before someone sees."

Jemma decided not to remind him that it was past midnight, and if the rest of the team felt as tired as she did, they'd be passed out on their beds. She might not have wanted to leave, but the death of Dr Hall had affected her more than she'd like to admit. As always, she needed him, just as much as he needed her.

"Thanks, by the way" he mumbled, putting a stand to rights with one hand and replacing a screen with the other.

"Anytime." She paused. "For what?"

"You know. Coming. To me, to see me, I mean. When I needed you."

"Anytime," she repeated again, with a soft smile. "You know that."

"Course I do. But still, you know, thanks. For everything. I can't imagine doing this without you."  _Or anything,_ he added silenty. They both knew it didn't need to be said.


End file.
